The Dawn of a New Day
by morbidhabits
Summary: Set during 6th year. The war is upon the world. While Draco finds a way to escape from the dark side, he finds more than just a friend in the person he least expected.
1. Chapter One

The storm raged on in the early morning of the castle grounds. Draco sat still, back upright and shoulders tense as he listened to the drops of water hit the floor with full force. His face, although gaunt and sallow, showed no inkling of the very anxiety that shook him to the core. He was always good at that, he thought, as he remembered his father's words.

Lucius Malfoy had summoned him to his study on the night after the battle at the Ministry. The very battle that had hushed speculation and revealed the disgusting truth, that the world was once again, in peril. He had known that before anyone else had, had almost been amused by the sight of headlines embedded into the Prophet the year before. '_Fools,' _he had thought, '_With all the divination in the world, there is wonder in how people could be so blindsighted as to what was happening before their very eyes.' _But he never did believe in a subject that lacked such control. That was never his style.

The amusement that accompanied him lost its spark soon after. _'Kill your headmaster' _his father had ordered, _'Kill him and we will be spared.' _Draco had listened and said nothing. He observed that this was a matter not up for debate and exited his father's study with a solid composure, betraying the acid that had suddenly begin to line his stomach walls, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth and making him want very much to retch onto the carpet beneath him. 'Yes,' acknowledged the voice in his head, 'you _are_ very good at that. You would've been long gone if you weren't.'

He spent the rest of the summer in silence, had begun carefully constructing plans to get himself out of this mess. Deep down, he knew this day would come eventually. He had first realised it during the summer of third year, where his father had hosted a handful of disdainful men at the manor more often than courteous necessity. He had been around guests hosted by his parents his entire life. He was forced to sit with them, eat with them, engage them, even though against his will and these people were certainly not the 'guests' he was told they were. He caught snippets of hushed conversations during that very summer, enough to know that something very bad was about to happen that year. He found himself withdrawn, spending most of his time encased in his room down in the dungeons, fervently anticipating what was about to happen. When Harry had appeared on the grounds clutching Cedric Diggory's body, he knew it had started. This was the beginning of war. His mind flickered back to the memory of Harry. Draco let out a long sigh. He closed his eyes, listening to the drops of the rain hit the ground with full force, albeit lighter now, he noticed. His chest filled with hope for the briefest of moments, but was soon expunged as fast as it came with the question that loomed before him. '_What am I going to do?_'


	2. Chapter Two

The doors of the dungeons burst open, revealing a dishevelled redhead and brunette, tie and glasses askew, frantically running to the front of the potions classroom and dropping their bags onto the floor with a loud thud before sliding into their seats.

"Blimey, I thought we'd never make it this time" said Ron, struggling to catch his breath. "Thank god that git isn't here yet."

"Well," came a sneering voice from the shadows of the ingredients cupboard. "If it isn't the duo of perpetual punctuality." Snape stepped out and made his way to the front of the classroom, his robes billowing behind him. "This 'git', would like to inform you that you are late. Again. If it were personally up to me I would have you two brewing watches." Draco, watching the scene with the rest of the class, tried hard to stifle a snigger. It was common sense that brewing physical objects was a near impossible and completely daunting task, which he was sure was the underlying malice to Snape's comment. However, judging by their responses, he gathered that neither of them knew, which did not surprise him.

"As it is not, most unfortunately, 30 points from Gryffindor," Snape announced to a very horror-struck Ron. He paused and a small smirk crept up his upper lip. "Each." Ron went from a putrid green to a deep purple, but did not dare breathe another word.

"Turn to page 493. Ingredients are on the blackboard," he announced with the flick of his wand. White script came rising to the surface almost immediately. "And I am most certain I do not need to direct you to the ingredients cupboard. You have one hour."

Outraged at Snape's reduction of house points and amused with the colour of Ron's face, Harry decided it would be better to turn his attention elsewhere. He focused on the headlines before him. The instructions to the 'Draught of Living Death' bore before him. He could not help himself but feel it was all too ironic. '_I am trained to be an artisan of death_' he thought vehemently, '_in the place I call home._'

He was informed of what was before him. He did not agree with it, but nobody else had a filed a complaint. He was brooding. Harry Potter had gone from one hit wonder to sacrifice for the greater good. '_The world saviour,_' he thought bitterly to himself, '_What a wonderful life this had turned out to be for the Great Harry Potter. I, at the very least, deserve to be stuffed with grapes before the burning._'

Harry decided to pay his dark humor no more attention. They were certainly not doing anything but making him feel worse. He cast a sidelong glance against the stone wall to his left, suddenly wondering what would have happened if he had never returned to this world at all, when something in the corner of his eye caught his full attention.

Draco Malfoy was studying him. He was studying him with a very different expression on his face. A commoner would not be able to tell the difference, but Harry knew Malfoy, had on more than several occasions to be up close and personal with the Slytherin, had observed the blood flow to his temples just to receive personal satisfaction of the knowing he was getting under the blond's skin. But something was different this time. He could not phantom what that blond was thinking because he had never seen Malfoy look at him the way he was and this, bothered Harry more than it should have. '_He's up to something._' Immediate certainty came floating through his mind. '_And I know better than anyone, when he's up to something._'


End file.
